


Heir

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-02-01 03:49:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21364555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Thranduil evaluates suitors for his son.
Relationships: Aragorn | Estel/Legolas Greenleaf
Comments: 12
Kudos: 284





	Heir

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Lord of the Rings or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

In some ways, judging the many elves vying for his son’s hand is one of Thranduil’s favourite duties. _Judgment_ is always a pleasurable pastime, especially when so many of the suitors are handsome creatures that he gets to circle around, eyeing up every bit of the bodies that they offer. He likes testing their obedience to their royalty, and he enjoys the power to banish them with a mere flick of his hand. 

It does, however, become dreadfully dull, after he’s seen four of five candidates in a single day, each less striking than the last. Sometimes he allows them to argue their case, and other times, he dismisses them after a single glance. Thus far, he’s found no one worthy to share the same air as his treasured son.

Then a new figure appears down at the end of his long walkway, and Thranduil straightens, eyeing the man with every step closer. 

It is a _Man_. That in itself is a surprise. It should be obvious that Thranduil would never allow his dear child to bond with any mortal—they’re flimsy, insignificant creatures that come and go without ever obtaining true intelligence. Their only value is in delivering wine, and this man doesn’t even hold any wine bottles in his hand—it doesn’t look as though he’s carrying _any_ gifts. That’s the first strike against him. Then he reaches the dais before Thranduil’s throne, and he bows low, showing the surprising grace of an immortal species. When he rises again, Thranduil realizes where he’s seen that face before.

“Estel,” he greets, a tinge of a smile on his lips. “You have grown much since I last saw you.”

“And you have not aged a day, my king,” Estel returns, speaking in Thranduil’s own tongue. He has the slightest accent, but Thranduil doesn’t hold that against him. The elves of Imladris tend to be a touch dreary when compared to the Woodland kind, but that rule isn’t hard and fast. Estel looks like he might prove _very_ interesting. He’s grown into a handsome man, tall and rugged, with dark stubble along his jaw and short but wavy hair. His build is strong, posture alert, and he looks like he knows just how to use the sword fastened at his hip. Thranduil takes his time eyeing the sculpted planes of Estel’s broad chest before he speaks. 

Looks are all well and good, but Thranduil has to know; “What have you to offer my son?”

“Nothing,” Estel answers, impressively cool and calm for one who speaks so plainly to a king. “I come only seeking friendship. I remember meeting him once as a boy in Lord Elrond’s halls, but now that I am old enough to journey the world for myself, I would meet him again on his own terms.”

A smirk twitches at Thranduil’s lips. Clearly, Estel doesn’t remember Legolas’ beauty—that, or he was too young to appreciate it at the time. No one only wishes to be _friends_ with Legolas. Yet few are worthy of even that. Then Thranduil remember something else: the real reason for Estel’s presence with Elrond. Under normal circumstances, Thranduil cares little for the realms of Men. But even he knows of Gondor’s stature, and having its true heir stand before him is an interesting prospect. This is the highest rank that Legolas has yet been offered: a true _king_.

For that, Thranduil _might_ allow a mortal dalliance. He supposes Legolas could always ride south and enjoy the prestige of ruling enormous mortal lads for a few fleeting years, then return when Estel passed. If Legolas wished, he could even still keep the crown. Thranduil has no doubt that when they meet again, Estel will be all too eager to give that crown to Legolas. They might begin as friends for a short time, but Thranduil would bet that they’ll be in love before the coming spring. 

He finally decides, “You may meet him.”

Aragorn bows again, rising to say, “Thank you, my king.”

Thranduil offers a thin smile. He’ll offer a toast at tonight’s feast, where he’s sure the two will sit together, already hand in hand. He nods towards one of his guards, and they follow Aragorn out, knowing to set the plan in motion.


End file.
